Northanger Abbey

by Val McDermid

  Before any further plans could be made, the General announced it was time to set off. ‘Your brother has returned to his regiment, I hear,’ he said as they strolled back to the car. ‘Cheeky boy should have stopped off to say goodbye.’

  ‘He was probably looking for more fun than Northanger could provide,’ Henry remarked. His father gave him a shrewd look but said nothing. And so, without further discussion, the visit was concluded and the young women settled down to enjoy their Internet access for as long as it took to reach the black spot that was Northanger Abbey.

  29

  Sunday turned out to offer more entertainment than Cat had expected. The General announced that they were invited to lunch by friends with a castle near Melrose. ‘There’s some sort of open-air drama in the grounds later that we have to stay for,’ he grumbled. ‘I hope I can sneak away and play billiards.’

  The friends turned out to be a large extended family with plenty of conversation; the drama a double bill of Tom Stoppard plays hot from the Fringe. Cat’s only knowledge of his work had been the screenplay of Shakespeare in Love, so the evening turned out to be surprising in every respect.

  It was late when they got back, the General grumbling even more because he had to be up early in the morning to catch a train to London. ‘Bloody MOD,’ he complained. ‘Why can’t they start meetings at a civilised time of day? I had enough of getting up in the middle of the night when I was in the army.’

  ‘Will you be gone long?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘I’ll stay at the club tomorrow night. See some old friends on Tuesday and head back in the evening.’

  With the General gone, Cat’s pleasure in Northanger increased dramatically. She and Ellie did some work on their story ideas, then went for a walk, then sprawled on the sofas in the drawing room talking about the relative merits of Brad Pitt and Ryan Gosling. ‘This is such bliss,’ Ellie said when Mrs Calman brought them a trifle for afternoon tea. ‘Never leave, Cat. Stay here for ever and be my partner in crime.’ Mrs Calman harrumphed on her way out the door.

  ‘You’re so sweet. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I should probably think about going home.’ There was some truth in what Cat said; but there was also some underhandedness for, by testing the water, she hoped to win Ellie’s approval for a longer stay.

  ‘No way,’ Ellie protested. ‘Life here is so dull on my own. You have to keep me company a bit longer. Besides, it’s the Northanger Common Riding next Sunday. You’ve got to stay for that.’

  ‘Like in the photograph you showed me?’

  ‘Exactly. You Southerners have nothing to compare.’

  ‘Explain it to me properly.’

  ‘All the Borders towns and villages have something similar. Basically, all the local men get on horseback and ride the parish boundaries, or ride out to the nearby villages and raise a standard and have a drink then ride back. And then the whole town has a party. It’s sort of like a Spanish fiesta but with more drink and worse dancing. Our Common Riding starts off and finishes up here, so there’s lots of socialising and stuff. And if you go up to the top of the drive, you can see the riders all strung out across the landscape below. It’s quite a sight.’

  ‘Sounds like it. And it’ll be OK with your father if I stay on?’

  ‘Of course. He thinks you’re the bee’s knees. And Henry will be really chuffed too. Someone to show off his pretty riding to. Boss, in his world.’

  Later, as they were leaving the upstairs sitting room to head for bed, they saw twin beams cut the darkness of the window, then heard the unmistakable sound of tyres on gravel. ‘Who can it be at this time of night?’ Ellie wondered. ‘Unless it’s Freddie. He’s always turning up at ridiculous times of the day or night.’

  ‘I thought he’d gone back to his regiment?’

  ‘Yes, but if they’re shipping out right away, he might have a twenty-four-hour leave. Oh, look, off you go to bed, I’ll sort him out.’

  And so they parted on the landing, Ellie running downstairs and Cat hurrying to her room. The last thing she wanted was a midnight confrontation with Freddie Tilney. If he was here for a day, she didn’t see how she could avoid an encounter, and if they did meet, she didn’t see how she could avoid telling him what she thought of his behaviour. At least the General would not be there to witness her indulging in behaviour so inappropriate for a guest of the family.

  Such were her thoughts as she got ready for bed and climbed beneath the covers. But Cat had barely picked up her book when she thought she heard a footstep in the corridor outside. Her heart leapt with anxiety. Was she imagining things? But no, for as she stared at the door, she saw the handle move a little. The idea of someone approaching so covertly made her pulse race. Was this the point where her wildest fears became a reality?

  Telling herself not to be ridiculous, Cat slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She gripped the handle, turned it swiftly and yanked the door open. To her amazement, Ellie was standing there, pale-faced and clearly agitated. ‘What’s the matter? Come in, tell me what’s wrong!’

  But Ellie stood mute, shaking her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said, her voice tremulous.

  Cat put a hand on her arm. ‘Why not? Don’t be silly, Ellie, come inside and sit down before you fall down.’

  ‘Stop being so kind, Cat. I can’t bear it, not with what I’ve got to say to you.’

  Cat’s mouth fell open. Surely it could not be bad news about Henry? ‘Has something happened at Woodston?’

  ‘Woodston? No. It’s my father. He’s come back from London.’ She looked away and Cat could see tears glistening in her eyes. ‘I don’t know how to say this. After everything I said to you today. I thought we’d be together for at least another week. I was counting on it.’

  ‘Me too. What’s gone wrong?’

  Ellie gave an angry shrug. ‘My father has just come home and announced that first thing on Tuesday we are flying off to Nice to stay with our cousins there for two weeks. Apparently it’s been in the diary but he forgot all about it. I don’t know when this was decided or why, but I have no choice in the matter, apparently.’

  Cat stared in shock. ‘You’re a grown woman. He can’t make you go where you don’t want to go.’

  Ellie smacked her fist into the door jamb. ‘You’ve seen what he’s like. He won’t stand for defiance. At least, not from me.’

  There was no possibility of argument. ‘I’ve seen that. Look, I don’t blame you. Don’t get yourself in such a state. I’m sorry we can’t stick together longer, but that’s just how it is. I’m not offended. I know you can’t help it. We’ll get together again when you get back from France. You could come down to Dorset, if you don’t mind chaos.’

  ‘I can’t make any promises.’ Ellie looked at the ground.

  ‘We’ll just have to make the most of tomorrow, then. Maybe when Calman takes you to the airport on Tuesday morning he can drop me off at the station in Newcastle?’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘I wish that was possible. But Father’s already made the arrangements. There’s an express coach from Newcastle to London at seven thirty tomorrow morning. He’s reserved you a seat on it. Calman will pick you up at the front door at six.’

  Cat was so shocked she staggered backwards till the bed caught the back of her knees and she sat down abruptly. ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘I know, I could hardly believe it when he told me,’ Ellie said, anger replacing sorrow in her voice. ‘Believe me, you can’t be more pissed off than I am right now. Jeez. What will your parents think of us? No way they’ll want me anywhere near your place. They’ll hate me for taking you away from the Allens, your real friends, then treating you like this. Driving you out of the house in the middle of the night without warning. I can’t believe my father’s manners. Please, please don’t tar me with the same brush.’ She grasped her hair and twisted it in her hands. ‘Something like this, it’s so awful. It makes me see that I have to break free.’

  ‘But not tonight, Ellie. L
et him have his way. It’s not worth it.’ Cat could hardly assemble her words into sentences. ‘Have I done something to offend him, is that it?’

  ‘If you have, I’ve no idea how. He’s really wound up about something, though. I know he always seems bad-tempered, but mostly I can talk him round and calm him down. Not tonight, though. Something has got under his skin, but I don’t see how it can have anything to do with you.’

  ‘If it is, whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Don’t fret about me, Ellie. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get in touch with Mum and Dad to let them know. Or James. He would have come for me, if your father wasn’t so eager to see the back of me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I suppose it’s too late to phone him now. But Calman won’t mind taking you, I know that.’

  Now Cat snapped. ‘It’s not the journey that bothers me. It’s being thrown out in the middle of the night like a disgraced Victorian housemaid. And there’s nothing you can do about that, Ellie, so you’d better leave me to my packing.’ Her voice cracked on the final word and she felt tears blocking her throat. So she got to her feet and closed the door in her friend’s face.

  For the second time in a few days, she threw herself down on the bed and sobbed. How had it come to this? She’d made two friends since she’d left the Piddle Valley and in their different ways, they’d both totally let her down. How could the General treat her so cruelly? Without any reason that could justify such behaviour? No apology from him, either. And she wouldn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to Henry. At this thought, the tears rose again to choke her. She’d thought he was showing signs of returning her feelings, but that would never happen now. Who knew if they’d ever meet again, living at opposite ends of the country, in such different social circles.

  How had this happened? Cat had somehow gone from being the bee’s knees to the shit on his shoe in the space of a day. It was as incomprehensible as it was mortifying. What would her parents think she’d done to cause this abrupt departure? How would she explain it to the Allens, who thought so highly of the Tilneys?

  And the way the General had arranged things, without any consultation. She’d never heard of anything so high-handed, not in any of her father’s four parishes. Who did he think he was?

  Then something struck her. Something she had done which, if it had been discovered, might have given offence. Not offence of the order of throwing her out in the middle of the night, but some umbrage. She dragged herself off the bed and opened her bag. She rummaged among her clothes, but the Bible with the bullet hole was exactly where she had left it, tucked under a pair of sweaters. So her single transgression had not been discovered. Cat debated whether to leave the book lying on the bed when she went, so they would know what she had discovered. Then she thought better of it. She would take it with her and perhaps ask her father what he thought it might mean.

  The night passed heavily. She tried to go to sleep but she was too agitated and her mind refused to rest. She’d been frightened of imagined horrors in this room, but those shadows were meaningless compared to the abject misery that now held her captive. The strange noises of the wind and the sinister creaking of the old building no longer held any fear for her. Cat had real pain to blot them out.

  Eventually, she gave up on sleep. She took a long shower, hoping in spite of the General’s obsession with good plumbing that the running water might keep him awake. Then she dressed and packed her bag. She sat on the edge of the bed, mute and miserable.

  At half past five, there was a tap at the door. When Cat opened it, Ellie stood there with a tray. ‘I brought you some coffee and brioches,’ she said abjectly.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ Cat said. She gave one last look round the room, picked up her bag and marched down the hall to the gallery. She humped her bag downstairs, glancing in at the dining room as she passed. It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, she and Ellie had been laughing over breakfast, delighting in the General’s absence.

  Ellie trailed behind her. ‘Email me, Cat. As soon as you get home. Let me hear from you as soon as you can, please? I won’t be able to settle till I know you’re back home safe. We can still be friends, Cat. We can still do the books together.’

  Cat sighed. ‘Will your father allow you to be in touch with me?’

  ‘Oh, please. I’m not his prisoner. Look, I know I need to make changes. But it’s not easy. Be my friend. Help me.’

  Before Cat could say more, Mrs Calman emerged from the kitchen. ‘Some sandwiches,’ she said briskly, handing Cat a carrier bag laden with food.

  ‘Thank you,’ Cat said, as dignified as she could manage.

  ‘Have you got enough money?’ Ellie asked desperately as Cat opened the front door. ‘Only, you’ve been gone from home a while, and I just thought . . .’

  Cat closed her eyes momentarily. She hadn’t even thought about money. ‘Can you lend me some?’

  ‘Wait there.’ Ellie ran upstairs like the wind. Mrs Calman stood silent as a pillar while they both waited for her return. Ellie thrust a bundle of notes into Cat’s hand. ‘There’s a hundred.’

  ‘That’s more than I need.’

  ‘Just take it.’

  ‘I’ll pay you back,’ Cat said. Another black mark against the General, who had never even considered how she might pay her way home.

  ‘No hurry,’ Ellie said. ‘Be in touch, yeah?’

  Cat nodded and walked out the front door. Calman stood at ease by the car. She’d slipped so far down the pecking order that he wasn’t even wearing a tie. Calman’s cravat told her all she needed to know about her new position apropos the Tilney family. Loading her own bag into the boot, Cat pressed her lips firmly together. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her tears. However hard it might be, she was done with Northanger Abbey.

  30

  Calman spoke not a word during the journey, which Cat was grateful for, since she didn’t think she could open her mouth without howling like a baby. At that hour of the morning, they made good time and he pulled up in an unattractive side street near the railway station at a few minutes after seven. It didn’t look like a promising location for a coach station, but the bus for London was sitting in the morning sunshine with its door open.

  Cat took her bag from the boot and hurried to collect her ticket. To her surprise, when she approached the coach, Calman was standing a few feet away, hands in his trouser pockets, looking more like a nightclub bouncer than the general factotum of a great house. Clearly he was waiting to make sure she boarded the coach. It added a whole new level of insult to being seen off the premises. What did he think she was going to do? Sneak back to Northanger and burn the place to the ground? Not that they didn’t deserve it, after the way they’d treated her. But she would show she was better than them. She gave Calman a little wave. ‘Do thank your wife for taking such good care of me,’ she said in her most gracious tones as she climbed aboard.

  Her seat was halfway up the coach, by the window. Her hopes of being left alone to wallow in her misery were dashed when a black youth around her own age dropped into the seat next to her. ‘All right, pet?’ he greeted her. She gave him a pained smile and he laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried, I’m not going to bother you.’ He plugged in his earphones and took a tablet computer out of his backpack. Inside a minute he was lost in a world of his own.

  Cat was grateful for his disengagement. Seven and a half hours of being dragged into someone else’s concerns would have left her feeling even more murderous towards General Tilney, hard though that might be to credit. The journey itself had no terrors for her. She had plenty to think about and plenty of Hebridean Harpies to amuse her on her e-reader. The hard part was dragging her mind clear of Northanger Abbey.

  She glanced at her watch. On the other side of the country, Henry would be sitting in the dining room at Woodston with his morning coffee and his bowl of cereal. She couldn’t believe he knew anything of what had happened, for he would surely have been in touch. Which
reminded her, she hadn’t checked her phone to see if there were any messages. Not to mention the necessity of letting her parents know she was on her way home.

  Cat rummaged in her daypack and fished out her phone. She thumbed the button to wake it up and nothing happened. She repeated her action, with no result. She pressed the power button but again there was no response. Realising the extent of her misfortune, Cat groaned out loud. She’d run the battery down during their car journey back from Woodston and she’d forgotten to charge it up again; the lack of signal at Northanger had broken her regular habit of plugging it in every night. And the charger was in her big bag, which was in the luggage locker somewhere under the coach. She was trapped in her isolation, unable to vent her feelings to anyone but herself.

  The dead phone reminded her of how buoyant she’d felt on the journey back from Woodston. She’d posted photos of the house and the loch views to her Facebook page and tweeted her delight to the world. She’d even emailed a few pics to her parents, to let them see what a great time she was having. It had been a magical day. In spite of her terrible gaffe at Northanger, Henry was clearly pleased to see her and eager to spirit her off on her own. She couldn’t have wished for a better reaction to Bella’s ridiculous email. And he’d cared enough to ask about her future, as if it might concern him. She didn’t think she was imagining the undercurrent of affection that was building between them. This hollow feeling in her stomach when she thought of him was, she believed, a barometer of love.

  And that day at Woodston, the General had been as genial as she’d ever seen him. Even Ellie had commented on his high opinion of her. So what could have happened to throw the switch from regard to contempt – for only contempt could have led to her abrupt dismissal. Surely Henry hadn’t told him about her night-time prowling and embarrassing suspicions? She couldn’t believe that of Henry, for what positive motive could he possibly have harboured for such a revelation? It wasn’t as if it was the sort of thing you could make a joke about – ‘Hey, Dad, Cat thinks you murdered my mother. Did you ever hear anything so funny?’ No, that one wouldn’t work, not even on the Fringe.